Love is the Only Choice
by StatsGrandma57
Summary: Ben Solo's fall to the Dark Side might not be inevitable. But it's going to be a hard haul. Oneshot.


LOVE IS THE ONLY CHOICE

Three months had passed since Han had brought Ben home for Life Day.

Things had not gone well. The first week Ben started school, he'd gotten into a fight with a fellow student because the boy had given him a negative comment on an essay that the class was critiquing. The fight had resulted in a one-day suspension for Ben. Han and Leia had hoped that this would teach their son that fighting with classmates was not the way to make friends or acquire status, but about a month after that, it happened again during a zero-g hockey tournament, where Ben claimed that an opponent had cheated, when in fact it had been determined that that wasn't the case. That earned him a three-day suspension and dismissal from the team, which was unfortunate; Ben was quite athletic and showed promise.

For a few weeks, Ben, despite his disgruntlement at being dismissed from zero-g hockey, showed improvement. Things appeared to be looking up until he asked a girl out. The young lady, having seen some of Ben's erratic behavior, nervously declined, which infuriated Ben. In the rage that followed he ended up damaging lockers, tables, and chairs. At that point, the school decided expulsion was their only option. Han and Leia appealed, but were informed that Ben's behavioral problems were not something the school was equipped to handle.

The beleaguered parents were at their wits' ends. They could send him back to the Jedi Academy, but odds were Ben would only get worse there. By Luke's own admission, his nephew had been aggressive towards other students there. Luke had a number of other trainees whose well-being he had to consider.

For the moment, he'd been assigned a tutor droid, and while he was unhappy about it, Ben was managing to do most of his assignments. He complained loudly and when he had trouble understanding something, supplemental patient explanations by his parents were either ignored or rebuked loudly. Often, he'd fly into rages, exploding over seemingly trivial or imagined things.

Their home was in an uproar. Jana spent most of her time either out with her friends or in her room, choosing to steer clear of Ben. There were a few times when they'd played a game together, but her older brother's reactions were so unpredictable that she'd stop chancing it.

When Ben wasn't losing his temper or complaining vociferously, he was sullen, silent, and hiding in his room. It caused enough tension that it was reaching the point where Han and Leia might not have minded if he never came out again.

And then, there was an inexplicable period of calm. It was as if Ben's fury had dissipated into the ether, and he began to smile more. He attacked his lessons with gusto, showing a prodigious talent for mathematics and astrophysics, while dealing with his less-favored subjects in a mature fashion. Jana was wary of him at first, but they began to play together, limiting their rivalry to blowing each other up in hologames. There was some teasing and taunting as well, but it remained good-natured. And Ben had discovered a deep affection for his baby sister Kira, whom he'd never gotten to know; he picked her up, played with her, even offered to take care of her when Han and Leia had events they needed to attend. Kira adored her big brother and never let him forget it.

After the horrors of those first three months, Han and Leia breathed a sigh of relief; they thought that finally, Ben might have adjusted to being at home and was happy about it. They'd had enough sleepless nights to last several lifetimes.

It was the evening of yet another official function, which neither Han nor Leia was in the mood to attend, but it had to be done. As both were finishing dressing, Han grumbling loudly about having to put on formalwear-again-and Leia muttering about not having lost her baby weight from Kira, they could hear a series of shrieks from the living area. Appearances forgotten, both parents raced from the bedroom. To their extreme horror, Ben was shaking little Kira, screaming at her, and Jana was trying to wrestle the toddler free of her brother.

"Let her go!" Han shouted so loudly that all of the planets in the Core Worlds must have heard it.

"She dropped my comm in the aquarium!" Ben screamed.

"I don't care!" Han snarled at him in a voice that was frightening in its quiet menace. He grabbed his younger daughter, who was wailing mightily, and handed her to Leia, who held Kira and tried to soothe her. Jana was utterly terrified as well, and clung to her mother.

"Get him out of here!" Jana shrieked.

"I'm doing that right now!" Han shouted. He pushed Ben into the wall. "You're going to the medcenter, kid, and you're going now!"

"Fuck you!" Ben shouted back. "I'd rather be dead! You'd rather I was dead, too!"

Leia, an experienced multitasker, was simultaneously comforting her daughters and comm'ing 999.

Ben slumped to the floor, and burst into tears. "I can't live like this anymore," he sobbed. "Just let me die. Please."

Han was utterly distraught, watching as waves of hopelessness crashed over the man-child that was his son, whose despair was deep and ultimate. Han wasn't feeling a whole lot better at this point, but he was certain of one thing: he loved his children, and he would do whatever it took to make their lives good ones. And he would be strong for them.

He knelt down on the floor by his son and held him close. "You're not gonna die, son. Not on my watch. We're gonna do this, together."

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Leia had taken the girls into the bedroom when the emergency med team arrived. Ben was begging Han to kill him and put him out of his misery.

Han wished he could absorb Ben's pain and take it for his own. On the way to the medcenter, Ben alternated between tearful pleading and aggression.

"I'm being torn apart," Ben wept to Han. "I want to be free of this pain."

Han gently laid a hand on his son's cheek. Ben was just starting to grow facial hair; it was still soft and downy. Han remembered that he'd found it a bit unsettling when it first happened to him, despite the fact that he knew all human males grew it. There was so much to get used to growing up, and it was hard enough without Force sensitivity...and, Han realized, mental illness.

"I know what I have to do," Ben choked out, barely able to speak. "But I don't know if I have the strength to do it."

"You do, son. You're a Solo and a Skywalker. You have that strength," Han told him tenderly.

Ben turned to him. "Will you help me?" His eyes were pleading, and framed in red, swollen nearly shut.

"Yes. Anything," Han told him, stroking the fine, soft hair on Ben's head.

"Don't leave me," Ben pleaded as he was offloaded into the medcenter.

"Never," Han promised him, following along, every footstep leaden. His heart felt both like it weighed a million kilograms, and that it was breaking into pieces; his equilibrium was equally shattered.

But he wasn't going to fall apart. No. If his son ever needed him to keep it together, to show him what it was to be a man, it was now.

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Ben was taken for evaluation, and since he'd become aggressive again, the staff had been forced to sedate him. Han waited outside, at the staff's bidding, and comm'd Leia.

"You all right?" he asked Leia gently.

Leia sounded as if she was swallowing back tears. "I don't know if 'all right' is the correct term for it, but I'm maintaining for now. The girls are in our bed with me, both sound asleep. How's Ben?"

"In evaluation. He had to be sedated," Han said, not able to keep the sorrow from his voice. "I can't see him right now. Are the girls okay?"

"Kira cried for a long time but Jana and I finally got her to sleep.

Han said sadly, "I wouldn't want to be anywhere near his mind right now.

"The hardest part is that there's still so much good in him. He isn't a bad person, Han." Leia's voice began to crack.

"No, but he can't be this way and be at home with the family. I'm being called, sweetheart. I'll get back to you as soon as I can. I love you."

There was no disguising the tears in Leia's voice now. "I love you, too."

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The chief medic assigned to the case, a human woman named Thora Kalish, came out to the waiting area.

"Mr. Solo?" she asked. She looked like she was somewhere between Jana and Ben's ages.

Captain Solo was his preferred honorific, but he didn't bother to correct the young woman; he simply said, "Yes?" far more anxiously than he would have liked.

"Ben is asleep, and will be for a while. We need to talk," she said in a quiet, no-nonsense voice that dispelled the impression of her still being somewhere in her teens.

"Go ahead," Han said sharply.

"In private," she requested, her tone indicating it was anything but a request.

Grudgingly, Han followed her; he was always irritated by medical personnel, human and droid—they so often seemed ridiculous to him. He wished there'd been some other alternative location for taking his son, but despite all of the places in the galaxy he knew, he couldn't come up with one.

And the boy was ill. That much was clear. He required treatment. But what illness? What treatment?

"Ben is suffering from a very severe form of bipolar disorder," Thora Kalish announced without preamble and to Han's mind, with little warmth or compassion. It bothered him. He knew that he wasn't always the warmest guy in the galaxy, but this was a child—his son—that she was talking about. However, he let it pass.

"That's treatable, isn't it?" Han asked.

Thora Kalish sighed. "It is, ordinarily. But your son is Force-

sensitive, and that complicates things. A lot." She seemed to be vaguely annoyed, and that irritated Han a little more.

"It's not exactly like he chose to be," Han reminded her, more sharply than was necessary, but, at the moment, he didn't care.

Thora, taken slightly aback, nodded. "But it makes the disorder more difficult to deal with; the constant input that's part of Force sensitivity complicates the treatments. Sometimes the treatments will dull the sensitivity, but in the few cases I've read about in the literature-and I've never encountered one before myself-more often than not, the treatments intensify the Force sensitivity. It's as if the treatments do the reverse of what they're intended to do. Has the boy had any training?"

Han gulped. "He...wasn't a very good student. We took him out of the Academy. We thought bringing him home might help."

"I'm not surprised." The medic folded her hands in front of her on the desk. "I'd hoped to find a case or two where the training helped the individual overcome the illness, but I've not been able to."

"Considering that they were almost completely wiped out forty years ago," Han said, almost sneering. "It's not as if you have a huge pool to choose from."

Thora looked offended. _Leia always told Han, you certainly have a way with people._

Han didn't care whether she was offended or not. Ben needed help.

"You're right, we don't have the data," she concurred.

"So what do you suggest?" Han's request was nearly a demand.

She sighed again and swallowed. "It might be best for everyone if he were institutionalized.

Han had had enough. "No. That's not acceptable."

"Sir-

"Now wait a minute," Han said, his voice quietly furious. "I bring him here for help, and you tell me

to put him in lockdown?" His volume rose as he spoke.

"I'm just trying to tell you-"

"Lady, I don't want you telling me anything! Now get me another medic, one who has a clue as to what he or she is doing, and get out of here!" Han surged to his feet. "Get me another medic, one who has a clue about what they're doing." He leaned forward. "Then get out of my sight."

"Please keep your voice down!" she hissed.

"No, I will NOT keep my voice down, lady." Han slapped his hands down on the desk. "This is my son we're talking about! Now get me another medic!"

Thora hung her head. "Very well, Mr. Solo."

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Han had returned to Ben's bedside. The boy was still out cold, tubing dripping medication into his son's arm. Ben was nearly as tall as he was, but right now, he looked small-and as vulnerable as Han had ever seen him.

Han took the chair next to the bed. _Medcenters_ _hate families, or they'd have more comfortable chairs_ ,he grumbled to himself. _They just want us to go the hells home and do what they want without us saying anything._

Medcenters always made Han feel powerless, and the one thing he couldn't tolerate was feeling powerless. He was Han Solo. He'd made the Kessel Run in less than twelve parsecs. He'd escaped countless traps, had been instrumental in winning many battles, and had even taken on Imperial battle cruisers without flinching. Well, almost without flinching. He'd even stared down Leia Organa Solo and, on occasion, won an argument with her.

But compared to the slender figure lying what seemed to be near lifeless in the bed, he still had considerable power. He was going to help his son, no matter what it took. There was no way he'd ever let his son live out his days drooling and drugged in an institution. Ben had so much potential. He possessed a quick intelligence, a lively sense of humor when he wasn't in one of his black moods, plus mechanical and piloting skills that Han had to admit rivaled his own. He could be

capable of great love and affection. As a little boy, Ben had idolized his dad and followed him everywhere. They'd worked on the Falcon together constantly; it had provided a good outlet for the little boy's seemingly boundless energy. And when Ben turned ten, Han had trained him to fly the Falcon. Even though Ben had always been emotional and moody, flying and mechanics seemed to lift his poor spirits. Han had always enjoyed his son's company—until the child turned twelve.

Then, shortly after Ben's twelfth birthday, things went decidedly downhill. He'd become surly, which didn't come as a shock to either Han or Leia; they'd been adolescents themselves, but it was the degree that was bothersome. Leia would never have cursed out her parents they way Ben did them, and no amount of punishment or pleading ameliorated this behavior.

Even worse was the destruction of property. Furniture that Han had lovingly constructed for Ben's room had borne the brunt of his son's wrath. The worst was when'in a fit of rage over losing a game to Jana, he'd thrown the rocking chair Han had built for Leia when they'd found out they were pregnant with Ben. Leia had rocked both Ben and Jana in that chair, nursed them, comforted them.

Leia hadn't cried. But Han never forgot the pain in her eyes as she watched the chair splinter.

Luke had told them before Ben was born that the child was Force-sensitive and would need training from early childhood on. Han and Leia objected to the idea and had informed him that, even it was true, they were their baby's parents and they would raise him as they saw fit. They hadn't, they made clear to Luke, become parents to not act as parents.

Now Han wondered if it had been the worst mistake they'd ever made.

Unfortunately, that was then, this was now, and it had to be dealt with.

"Captain Solo?" The voice was soft, tentative.

Han's reverie interrupted, his head snapped up, he turned and stared in the direction of the voice.

 _Terrific,_ he groaned inwardly. _A kriffing droid_ _; just what I need_ _. But at least he got my title right._

"Yes?" Han asked abruptly.

"Captain, I'm so very sorry that your son and your family has to go through this," the droid said gently.

 _Well,_ _his manners are better than that kriffing medic,_ Han thought grouchily.

"Are you going to tell me that my son would be better off spending the rest of his life in an institution?" Han growled. "Because if you are, get lost now."

"I'm Seven-Three-H," the droid continued, "and I'd like to do everything I can to help your son and your family." The tone was soothing. "Please, might we speak? There may be options we can explore."

Han looked up at him. "I'm listening."

"I've been doing this a very long time," Seven-Three-H began. Han found himself responding to his gentle tone and mannerism. Han's feelings about droids were well-known, but Seven-Three-H seemed to be significantly better programmed than any of the others he'd met, and he'd met a lot. "I was commissioned over forty standard years ago. When I went into practice, there were still many Jedi, and I became well-acquainted with their ways."

"Go on." There was something in the droid's patient manner that Han found encouraging.

"Your son is obviously highly Force-sensitive, and I concur with Thora Kalish's diagnosis of severe bipolar disorder. I understand that you were not receptive to her suggestion," Seven-Three-H stated, his voice calm and kind. "There may be another way."

The droid now had Han's full attention. "What is it?" Han knew that his voice was overeager, but this was his only son they were discussing, the son he loved deeply and would do anything for.

"I'm not saying it would work," Seven-Three-H went on, "but I have heard of Force-blocking. It's something every Jedi is taught, but it's usually against external elements-another person's thoughts, a disturbing dream. But, in theory, it might work."

"My brother-in-law runs the Jedi Academy on Yavin," Han said, trying not to be overly hopeful, and failing miserably.

"Yes, of course," the droid responded. "He would be more of an authority on this than I would. I

can't promise that it would work."

"Would it cure his bipolar disorder?" Han asked anxiously.

"Unfortunately, no. But it would likely render it treatable. It's nearly impossible to treat a Force-sensitive individual with the illness. This is only a possibility, you understand."

"A possibility's better than nothing," Han said. "I need to see my son."

"Of course," Seven-Three-H said. "We'll talk later."

Han strode purposefully back to his son's room. To his surprise, as he entered, Ben opened his eyes a little.

"Dad?" he whispered.

"I'm here, Ben," Han said, laying his hand on Ben's shoulder.

"Why won't you let me die?" A tear rolled down his son's cheek.

"Because you're my son. I love you."

Ben's voice was barely audible. "Love you, too, Dad."


End file.
